Soon after Anker turns thirteen he staggers out of his room on a weekday morning and somnambulates toward the sofa, where he nestles into the pillows as has been his habit for years. I snap a photo and I can’t stop looking at it side by side with the one it evokes, taken four years earlier, when this same young man was half his present weight and just about to turn nine. I even look up the number of days that have passed between the first photo (shoe size 36) and the new one (shoe size 42)—it’s 1488, henceforth a meaningful number.
I’ve often said that my son is like the lodestar that shows me the way to my authentic self. But it occurs to me that I’ve had it wrong: it is motherhood that is this star. And my son is vast stretches of the territory I’ve been navigating. He is every color the eye can see, every kind of music there is, the scent of the air in every possible weather. He is the road map to every rug I’ve ever hidden anything under and he is the first and only person I’ve ever known with whom I feel entirely at ease, even when I am not feeling at ease at all.
I do not lose sight of the fact that I am the grown-up, he is the child. I understand the ways I am his guide, his caretaker, his startup kit. I realize that fulfilling my role in his life amounts to supporting his once nascent, now impending independence, so that, in time, he no longer needs me at all.
Our children are not our children, the famous excerpt goes. (It has served me well to read up on my Gibran regularly.)
As Anker turns thirteen I am touched to note the ways he is so grown yet still so young. And yes, I have been feeling awe at what feels like this same observation since his first milestones, even in infancy. The details change, but the experience is constant. It is also far less nostalgia-inducing than expected. Instead, it is vibrant with excitement. Turns out that grief over loss has nothing on amazement at transformation.
As Anker turns thirteen I am relieved that I have finally learned enough about letting go to be ready for the tremendous honor of being a parent to a person in his teens. My plan for this potentially turbulent time is to listen more than I talk, to be truthful always, and to keep taking very, very, very good care of me.
Some things change, some things don’t.
And motherhood is my lightsource.
To see that “before” photo in the original birthday post context, go to http://osiatynska.com/blog/2019/06/12/nineyears.
For the sixth birthday post, visit http://osiatynska.com/blog/2016/06/12/six.
And click here if you want to read about the time Anker and I both had head lice: http://osiatynska.com/blog/2017/04/11/lice.